Archive for nosferatu

This interview was conducted by writer Adrien Party for the French Vampire webzine Vampirisme.

Hello. Please introduce yourself to Vampirisme.

JT: My name is Jill Tracy. I am a composer/pianist/singer/storyteller based in San Francisco, CA. With albums ranging from songs to film scores to post-classical instrumentals, I am fascinated with the beauty found in darkness––and my work honors the mystery, the forgotten, the stories lost in time.

Music allows me to create the emotional undercurrent, the portal to transport the listener into that magical place with me. I like to call it my “elegant netherworld.”

Into the Land of Phantoms is presented as a score for F.W. Murnau’s 1922 Nosferatu. Can you tell us about the genesis of this work?

JT: I adore the way F.W. Murnau uses light, imagery, and tempo in his films. It’s a musical seduction of shadows. Plus odd shots of nature are used to beautiful intrigue. But I always disliked the music that accompanied this film, usually a jaunty, meandering piano (or some mediocre, desperate to be cool, doom metal) that did nothing to compliment or serve what we were seeing onscreen. This is the case I find with most silent film scores. Most often, I watch them with the sound turned off because it ruins the experience for me. It becomes a complete disconnect when it should be the way “in.”

I wanted to honor the integrity of Nosferatu, dispose of any camp element and seamlessly enhance the emotion of Murnau’s stunning visuals. I don’t see Count Orlok as inciting horror or trepidation, as much as an unsettling allure. It’s a beautiful, sensual work; the listener should surrender to the spell of the music as intensely as to the spell of the vampire.”

Some of the characters have their own theme, which is used on many parts of the score. What was the point behind each theme? (particularly Van Helsing, which reminds me of the Grenada Sherlock Holmes tune, and Jonathan Harker).

JT: Those recurring themes set the tone and personality of the character so when you hear them again, it resonates, and you react subconsciously. You are instantly back in his/her head again! Van Helsing conveys an erudite trusting sense, whereas Renfield’s character was not only diabolical, but a bit fumbling, there were touches of hollow marimba tones that brought across the comic, peculiar side of his personality. The marimba melodies are both foreboding yet playful, which was the brilliant idea of my long-time percussionist Randy Odell.

I do want to mention the other wonderful musicians on that score: Alexander Kort (cello), Daniel Baer (violin.) I play piano.

The agent Renfield in F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu

Are there some moments of the score that are not on the CD, and why?

JT: Most of the score is represented on Into the Land of Phantoms. The CD will NOT sync up with the film, however, as the actual score had several long silent passages, or moments with just sound effects, which did not translate well for an audio CD. I am very proud that Into the Land of Phantoms stands exquisitely on its own as album of dark classical music.

Your musical production seems to be very influenced by silent movies. Do you think that nowadays cinema is less interesting than 1900-1950 cinema (in particular in the way it used music?)

JT; Well, the dates you mention certainly span the landmark years, from the silent cinema to talkies…through the great Film Noir period.

It was a watershed when I discovered the classic horror/film noir composers as a child. Bernard Herrmann’s scores to Alfred Hitchcock films, “The Day the Earth Stood Still,” Franz Waxman, Hans J. Salter, among others. It was pure magic to me, realizing that the MUSIC completely dictated the emotion of whatever it was that you were watching. It was utterly subliminal, primal.

I wanted to figure out how to conjure dark and enchanting imaginary worlds of my own. Not to mention the dreamlike, sensual look to those films. I just wanted to live in those worlds. They seemed perfect to me. They still do.

Today, most Hollywood movies and scores are not about creating fine art, but about making money, so sadly “scores” are often poorly placed pop songs pasted into a film to promote “bands du jour” owned by that company’s record label, etc. This has destroyed that elegant sense of timelessness in cinema…which is something I always strive for in my music, the fact that it will be relevant and distinctive on it own terms, never sucumbing to trends or the mass media of the time, which only cheapens the craft, and makes it insincere.

That’s why there is such a resurgence and newfound interest in classic cinema right now. These treasures have become a lost art.

Jill Tracy shot by Film Noir lighting master Jim Ferreira

What are your first and last encounters with a vampire (literature and / or cinema and /or music?)

JT: As a girl, I remember watching Bela Lugosi films and eating Count Chocula cereal. Those were probably my first encounters with vampires. I would stir those little brown marshmallows around in the cereal bowl imagining that it created graveyard dirt!

I guess I’ve come full circle because now I am working with David J, bassist from the legendary band Bauhaus, who wrote the gothic anthem “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.” I actually created a dark classical piano prelude for a new reworking of the tune by David J himself. He sings this version, as Peter Murphy sang David’s lyrics on the Bauhaus 1979 original. You can’t get more vampire than that!

(And interesting to note: the original cover art for Bela Lugosi’s Dead was a still from F. W. Murnau’s silent film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.)

Jill Tracy onstage with David J (Bauhaus) in Hollywood. photo by tourbuslive.

In your opinion, how can we analyze the vampire myth?

JT: The closer to death, always more alluring the taboo…

The vampire is one of the oldest, most resilient archetypes, existing in a variety of forms in nearly every culture worldwide. Each culture’s conception of the vampire has been somewhat unique––one type of Indian vampire feeds on the livers of its victims, while a form of Japanese vampire subsists by consuming infants.

The vampire was confounding or horrifying because it had the ability to achieve the forbidden, as well as lure others under its spell. For Victorian audiences, this spectre of wild sexuality, and the break with proper social behaviours, was unheard of, and terrifying. When Murnau’s Nosferatu debuted in theaters in 1922 (the first film based on the 1897 Bram Stoker novel,) people fainted in the aisles and had to be carried out of the theater!

For me, the universal appeal of the vampire is that of control/abandon, unbridled desire, the mysterious, the forbidden, eternal beauty, immortality. A lover seemingly out of our reach, a lover who can reveal to us dangerous new worlds and take us to heights we can only imagine is rapturous…and frightening. How much of ourselves are we willing to lose in the process?

Now, the role of bloodplay/drinking blood creates an even more severe sense of taboo in society with the reality of HIV, AIDS. This further entices a sense of forbidden fetish, unacceptable to the norm––a seductive mingling with death.

Do you have any other projects on this very same subject? What are your future projects?

JT: I’m not working on any vampire project now, but have recorded a song called “The Colour of the Flame,” which is based on the writings of 19th Century Polish occultist Stanislaw Przybyszewski. It will be released on a collector’s 7” vinyl along with a tune from Blixa Bargeld (Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds/ Einsturzende Neubauten.)

I am also thrilled to be the first musician in history to be awarded a grant from the famed Mütter Museum in Philadelphia, the nation’s foremost collection of medical oddities. I spent part of last year composing music inside the museum at night in the company of these wondrous specimens and lost souls. I will spend 2013 completing this project for an entire album inspired by the Mütter collection.

JILL TRACY: On Mystery, Music, and the Mütter Museum

Jill Tracy is a conjuror of the enigmatic; a purveyor of the extraordinary and raconteur of dark delights. She weaves her web with delicate soundscapes, seducing us into her parlour with eerie tales, which are sinister, yet captivatingly sweet. A singer, songwriter, composer, performer and all-around creative wonder, Jill has her delicate fingers in many delicious pies!

We found Jill tangled amongst a fury of live performances, recordings and music channeling: freeing herself for a moment to talk with us about some of the many projects she is currently immersed in.

Your music conjures such strong impressions of the past, each taking the listener back to a different by-gone era. What do you think it is about the past that is so seductive?

Jill Tracy: My music doesn’t evoke the Past so much as it does a sense of pure Timelessness. Transcendent of Time. That’s what makes it seductive; creating that place––familiar yet oddly intriguing. It resonates on a soulful level, but still maintains an air of the mysterious. That’s the magic music allows —like a trap door or portal, it accompanies us—to a place we never knew existed, but wish to go.

I’m honored to be this gatekeeper of emotions. Throughout my life, I’ve simply followed my own muses. I’ve always just composed the score I hear inside my head. Music from the mind’s eye… To listen to my music is to know me.

I have always been drawn to fantastical, otherworldly imagery. Worlds sans-time. As a child, I was obsessed with Alfred Hitchcock, Bernard Herrmann, Ray Bradbury, Rod Serling, Jean Cocteau. I just wanted to live in those worlds. I still do.
So I did the next best thing: I devoted my life to creating my own musical netherworld.

photo by bleedingvisuals

You’ve performed a number of ‘Musical Séances,’ with violinist Paul Mercer, over the years. At these events attendees bring along objects, trinkets, belongings that remind them of loved ones and you ‘channel’ live music using these possessions. What is it like to speak with the dead through music?

JT: Paul and I never approach it that way. It would be outrageous and in bad taste to claim we are “speaking to the dead through music.” If anything, it’s about honoring the dead, not mocking them, or selling hokum like sideshow hucksters.

The “Musical Séance” is a collective summoning inspired by beloved objects. Quite frankly, it’s more about the present than the past, music channeled from that fragile moment captured among the living. From sentiment to sadness, frivolity and fear. It’s musical psychometry.

Audience members are asked to bring tokens of special significance, such as a photo, talisman, jewelry, toy. This is a very crucial part of manifesting the music. Every object holds its story, its spirit. Energy, resonance, impressions from anyone who has ever held the object, to the experiences and emotions passed through it.

Often, these curiosities themselves are just as compelling as the music they inspire. We’ve encountered everything from cremated cats, dentures, haunted paintings, 16th century swords, antlers, and x-rays.

But one thing I’ve learned is––everyone in the world has a story to tell that will break your heart.

JT: My music and live performances have always been so emotionally driven to begin with– I would see people sometimes crying in the front row, or they’d come up to me after a set relating how a particular song got them through a rough time, or helped them find their true path, etc. I’ve realized I’ve become a beacon for so many kindred souls. And that’s very important to me. That genuine direct connection with an audience is such a rarity these days—in a world where entertainment has become vacuous and superficial. We are about as real as it gets.

I wanted the audience to become even more a part of my process, and actually compose pieces in front of them, culled from their energy. It’s a perfect circle. The audience gives to me, and I channel it musically and give it right back, creating a piece that will exist solely for us in those few minutes. It’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever experienced. A musical umbilical cord.

That led me to immersing myself in unusual locations laden with mysterious history, and manifesting music from my reaction to the environment. The intense purity and immediacy is so exciting. You are hearing my raw response at the piano. I call it “spontaneous musical combustion” (as homage to “spontaneous human combustion,” and my affinity for peculiar history and science tales.)
I’ve found myself conjuring the hidden score inside haunted castles, abandoned asylums, decrepit mansions, gardens, and theaters. It’s definitely one of my greatest pleasures right now.

The lovely and difficult thing about this work is that I can’t prepare for it, as I never know what to expect. I must allow myself to be completely vulnerable; simply feel, and react. It’s not about me anymore; it’s about the music, the story. It becomes so much bigger than any of us. That’s the beauty of it.

photo by Audrey Penven

It seems appropriate that you hold these musical séances when your music is so often described as being ‘haunting’ and ‘otherworldly’. Perhaps you are a bit of an apparition yourself?

JT: (laughs) Jello Biafra is quoted as saying “Drop dead original and dark as a drowning pool…I sometimes wonder if Jill Tracy is actually a ghost.”

I’ve been described as a musical sorceress, evocateur, intrigante, woman of mystery, ‘dark Queen of Melancholia,’ ‘femme fatale for the thinking man.’ All of these descriptives I adore. I guess when you feel out-of-sorts with the world, you must create your own.

From spiritualism to alchemy – what fine potions have you been working on by which to enchant us through another of the senses?

JT: I engage such a full-sensory arc in my work. I’ve always wanted to create fragrances to correspond to the music, similar to the way we concoct visuals with each album. Why not engage the olfactory? The sense of smell is directly linked to the limbic system, the part of the brain where emotion and memory are centered!

I’m collaborating with master perfumist Emerson Hart of Nocturne Alchemy. We’ve released two scents: Silver Smoke and Star of Night. I’m addicted to them already and have been wearing them constantly. More to come!

It’s been so exciting and fulfilling to smell these fragrances on different skins, everyone brings their signature to the scent and it changes person-to-person.
Night fragrance for Night music…

photo by Jeremy Carr

You’re currently in the middle of a new project with the Mütter Museum, where you have been invited to create compositions inspired by their collection of medical oddities. How did this come about?

JT: Yes, I’m honored to make history as the first musician to be awarded a grant, which is enabling me to compose music inside the Mütter Museum, a series of compositions directly inspired by pieces in the collection. It was vital for me to be in the presence of these long-lost souls, as I composed and recorded. I needed to immerse myself in their world. There is so much lurking here. This glorious synergy– the collection of souls together from various time periods and walks of life, most who endured extreme and rare medical conditions. I needed to be with them as I composed and make them a real part of the creation. This is my gift to them.

What inspired you to want to compose with the museum as a backdrop?

JT: The Mütter Museum has always been on of my favorite places on earth. When I first visited, I remember vividly standing on the red-carpeted steps leading down to the lower level and hearing the buzz. It was overwhelming. All these people, all these stories, together—yet apart, remembered—yet forgotten. I was swept in a whirlwind of feelings: admiration, pity, fright, shock, respect, repulsion, sadness. I just wanted to sit and listen, to hear their tales, to know them.

As you explore the Hyrtl Skull Collection, for example: Each has a brief story written in meticulous cursive on the side of the skull: Suicide by gunshot wound of the heart because of “weariness of life.” Lovesick teenager, a soldier, a shoemaker, well-known murderer, a tightrope walker who died of a broken neck, a hanged man, and a famous Viennese prostitute. All this life and death shared together in one glass case. It’s phenomenal.

There is such a brave beauty in these souls who had to endure these afflictions. I want to bring them to life through my music—peel away the clinical guise, dwell deeper, find the voices hiding within these walls.

All of my work will be factual. I’m in the throes of extensive research at the museum, even utilizing excerpts from letters and doctors’ records. My goal is to evoke the spirit, set a mood that transports you inside just by listening.

(Hyrtl Skulls, photo courtesy of Concierge.com Philadelphia)

What experiences have you had so far while working within the Mütter Museum? What is it like to create music in a setting that is normally very sterile and diagnostic?

JT: Well, for many, the study of science and disease is viewed as quite dry and clinical. There exists a strong disconnect with the examination of the disease itself and the dear souls who had to endure these afflictions. The personal saga of these brave patients is not often well documented, nor discussed. I remember as a child being obsessed with old medical textbooks and tomes, and upset that I could never find out more about the people in these books, but merely the disease.

But the Mütter is a different experience. It is indeed a medical teaching museum. But, Dr. Mütter’s entire point for starting the museum was to teach empathy and compassion. There lies in that a tremendous sense of marvel for me.

I want to honor the emotional side, the human experience from the Mutter’s collection. You may read about Harry Eastlack, the ossified man, whose rare disease (FOP) caused his entire body to slowly transform into bone. Young, handsome, vibrant– painstakingly trapped beneath a second skeletal cage. In the end, he could only move his lips. What was he like? How did he cope? What was his day-to-day experience? It’s unfathomable to me. I was thrilled to be able to read through Harry’s private files in the Mütter collection, letters, photos, extensive doctors’ records.

I composed and recorded the work “Bone by Bone” as I sat next to Harry’s famed skeleton. I needed him with me, to truly be part of the song, and not just the subject matter.

One of the most moving pieces I’m creating is entitled “My First and Last Time Alone,” about conjoined brothers Chang and Eng Bunker. Most of us know them as the original Siamese Twins, gloriously renowned performers who toured the world (even appeared before presidents and Queen Victoria)—married sisters, fathered 21 children, and employed the use of a “privacy sheet.” But after doing extensive research, I was completely devastated when I read how they died. The song is about that heartbreaking 3-hour period on a cold January night.

I was with Chang and Eng’s actual death cast, and their conjoined liver as I composed the piece. This was one of the most compelling experiences I’ve ever had. Abiding by the twins’ wishes, the liver was never separated, even after death.

How does the musical ‘channelling’ differ from the process you go through when composing (for example, the score for F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu) and/or writing the songs for your previous albums?

JT: It’s completely the opposite. In the case of film scoring, visuals dictate the music. I’m hanging on the visual, emotional cues–serving them. Channeling music is like jumping off a cliff. I’m not even conscious of it. It’s a visceral reaction to an energy, a sensation.
When I was scoring Nosferatu, I spent so much time in Murnau’s eerie world that the imagery would seep into the present. I remember vividly crossing a busy San Francisco street, looking down and suddenly seeing rats scurrying everywhere in a grainy, chiaroscuro haze.
When writing songs for my own albums, I get to take the reins. That process is much more personal.

(Jill Tracy performing her score to Nosferatu. photo by Jon Bradford)

Is there a famous figure from history you would like to try to connect with through one of their belongings? Anyone you would like to bring forth in a musical séance for your own pleasure?

JT: Wow, what a fantastic question! I can think of so many great ones: Count St. Germain’s velvet cloaks, Nikola Tesla and his beloved white pigeon, Rod Serling- via his Night Gallery paintings. I’d give anything to sit behind John Bonham’s drum kit, or play Richard Wright’s (Pink Floyd) piano.

Have you always been interested in history and its secrets?

JT: For me it was more about the unknown rather than just history stories. I loved asking certain questions and realizing no adult knew the answer. I learned there was a much deeper level that no one seemed to be able or brave enough to tap into.
I was given the book The Mysterious World when I was a child and when I first opened it, there was a picture of spontaneous human combustion. I had never heard of such a thing in my life. There’s that wonderful old photograph of Dr. John Irving Bentley who suddenly burst into flame. There’s a bit of his leg, with his foot still in a slipper, his walker, and cinders everywhere. And I’d read about toads and frogs and blood raining from the sky. Or Count Saint Germain, who was recorded to have lived for hundreds of years. He said his secret to immortality was to eat oatmeal and wear velvet encrusted with gemstones. To this day, no one knows exactly who he was, where he came from and if indeed he was immortal.
Monsters, marvels, lore, and legend—these are the things that make us feel most alive. The most wonderful questions of all are the ones for which there are no answers.

photo by Audrey Penven

At Nocturne Magazine, we ask our readers to suspend disbelief and become curious again. Is this also your hope for the future, that people allow themselves to be seduced by the mystery of life?

JT: Yes, I live to honor the mystery. I need to be a beacon for people, and allow them into the swampy place in their souls where the sinister and sensual meet. Peel away the layers of comfort and convention we hide behind. I find it fascinating to delve into those places and take an audience with me. Allow people to slip into the cracks, pry up the floorboards and search deeply. Believe. Imagine. It’s so important to hold on to that childlike sense of marvel.
Sometimes I feel that magic and the suspension of disbelief is the only thing that matters.